


You WILL Bloody Rest

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Protective Alec Trevelyan, Stubborn Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22410856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich
Summary: Q is agitated.  Alec is determined.  The battle of wills was always going to be one sided.
Relationships: Q/Alec Trevelyan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	You WILL Bloody Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts).



> For my darling boy. My Quartermaster. The little shite that keeps me on my toes.  
> Adore you, kiddo. Now get some f***ing sleep!!

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. 

Even barefoot, the rhythm of Q’s pacing is a repetitive slap of thickened skin against wooden flooring. There is the tiniest suggestion at the noise’s edge of sweat and varnish meeting and parting in the sticky divorce of each irritated footfall.

Q’s words rise and fall with his frustration, and his distance from the living room, where Alec is sprawled on the couch. Q’s mood has grown steadily more agitated, more intense, over the last hour. His headset is on and off, then back on again. His tone veers between exasperated and downright aggressive. Alec allows a pang of sympathy for the unfortunate recipient of Q’s ire.

Q returns, still with headset clamped to his ears, but now pulling on a hoodie over the top. A brief struggle ensues when the hoodie swallows up his comms link and refuses to release him from it’s confines. Sleeves flap comically, and Q’s curses reach a new level of profanity just as head pops free, headset askew.

“I’m going in,” he announces, “before they fuck up this fuckfest even more fucking-” It ends in a yelp as Alec’s strong fingers grip Q’s wrist and yank him off his feet. He falls heavily into Alec’s lap and the headset is sent flying across the living room.

“No. You’re not.”

Q struggles, but Alec’s steely grip is unrelenting. His arms clamp around Q’s waist, imprisoning him against Alec's chest. 

“I said, no.”

Alec doesn’t even take his eyes off the TV screen to look at the flailing Quartermaster trying to escape, but he continues, “It took me two hours to get you out of that goddamn basement. I don’t care if the world is ending, you are not going back in there for 24 hours minimum. That’s what your deputies are for.”

“You threw my headset away! I need it. If you’ve broken it I’ll… I’ll… for fucks sake, Alec, let go of me!”

Alec finally levelled his green shadowy gaze at him, holding Q’s skinny body slightly away from him. He took his time, critically appraising Q from head to toe. Q squirmed under the scrutiny and continue to mutter.

“Do you know what I see? I see a man who is exhausted, both mentally and physically. Who is dehydrated, and who has lost weight because he keeps forgetting to eat. I see a man for whom day and night are concepts that happen to other people. Who believes he is unaffected by the turning of the Earth, indeed, who thinks he is strong enough to beat it. I see a man… my lover, my partner… refusing to accept his physical limitations and meet his essential needs for the simple reason that he doesn’t trust that he has selected the best and most capable team in the whole of the British Security Services.” Alec’s finger pressed against Q’s lips, shushing his protests. “And he has. You have. Now quit your whining tantrum and stop for 24 fucking hours!”

One immovable forearm remained across Q’s lower belly, pinning him in place. Alec’s other hand crept into the tangle of Q’s curls, cradling his skull and lightly smoothing his fingers through Q’s hair. Deciding he had had his say, and nothing further was required, Alec turned back to the TV ignoring his wriggling, protesting partner and refusing to engage in any form of debate.

Little by little Q reluctantly succumbed to the hypnotic scritch scratch of Alec’s blunt fingernails over his scalp, and the occasional sharp tug on the strands caught between Alec’s fingers when he tried again to complain. The hoodie grew too warm, and Alec paused in his petting long enough to help Q out of it and drop it on the rug. When Alec eased Q down to lean against his chest, Q put up only a token resistance, settling in with a deep sigh.

Alec’s fingers continued to slide through Q’s curls, dipping down to his brow and smoothing the tension that Q held in his scowl. That frown had settled into Q’s countenance lately, like a permanent wrinkle in his personality. Another sign that he had been overdoing it. The pads of Alec’s fingers worked methodically, gently massaging and manipulating Q’s skin over the bony ridges of his cheekbones, nose and jaw.

Q’s frustrated huffs melted into more contented sighs. He fought in vain to keep his eyelids from drooping, so he could deny Alec the satisfaction of being right. One of his final murmured protests, before he emitted the first gentle snore, was ‘bastard. So hate you Alec’.

Alec grinned to himself and changed the TV channel. Q was a stubborn little shite, but there were some things that even he could not stand against.


End file.
